


Ghosts of Wind and Shadow

by EuphoniousGlow



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Disney, M/M, One-Shot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-26
Updated: 2010-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuphoniousGlow/pseuds/EuphoniousGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The streets of Agrabah were filled with music, and Aladdin met a stranger in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts of Wind and Shadow

The streets of Agrabah never slept. As soon as the blazing sunset descended past the flat horizon of the desert, the night-phantoms would appear. Turbaned merchants hiding their stolen wares from watchful eyes. Painted women in headscarves hoping for a prospective customer. Groups of children in rags, huddled together for warmth, shrinking away from strangers as though expecting a blow.

All the tales spoke of the city as a place of wealth and prosperity, but there was a darker side that Aladdin knew all too well. Those in the palace tried to ignore the poverty and squalor beyond its walls, but if they saw the hungry face of just one child perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to forget.

Aladdin had grown up in the city's streets. He knew which alleys were the best escape routes and which would lead to dead-ends and capture. He knew which merchants were most likely to overlook a missing trinket or piece of dried meat, and which ones would not hesitate to cut off his hand for stealing. He knew where to go to get a piece of bread or an old shirt. He was called a street rat, hardly worthy of notice by the citizens of the day, but he knew how to survive and saw more clearly than those who sat in their comfortable houses.

And yet sometimes he wanted more. He loved visiting the book seller, whose old tomes contained colorful illustrations that he enjoyed even if he couldn't read. He listened to the gossip of travelers stopping in Agrabah, as they exchanged news of distant lands and unknown kings. Despite being stuck in the hard reality of street life, he was not afraid to dream.

Then on midsummer's night the streets filled with music. It danced and whirled upon the wind, through the dirty alleyways and sewers, and none who heard it could resist its call. Soon other sounds joined with that of the lone sitar, drum-beats and lyre melodies, and the air thrummed with the sound. Those who could not play followed the path of the music, leaving merchandise and laundry and all other things behind.

Aladdin came as well, with Abu dancing on the ground around him, and the boy clapped his hands in time with the monkey's feet. This was not to be missed--music such as this had never been heard in the city, and who could tell when it would come again?

The source of the music was a figure shrouded in hood and cloak, fingers plucking out a melody on the sitar at his knees. He seemed oblivious to the gathering crowd, soft tenor voice weaving images of fantastical creatures and epic quests, faerie images in green and yellow. And Aladdin felt something inside him responding, the part of himself that had never given up on dreams.

His feet began to tap a beat, and then he was lost in the music, feeling the notes wrapping around him like a gentle lover. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, Abu screeching and laughing at his feet while his shadow made strange figures in the firelight.

And no one seemed to notice when the sitar music stopped, because the other instruments were so loud and everyone was lost in his or her own dancing. Aladdin felt a hand on his arm and the sitar player was there, beckoning for him to follow, away from the crowd and the noise. He did not know what caused him to obey without question, but he knew he wanted more of this person who could weave dreams with the movement of his hands, and his heart beat with excitement and anticipation. They stepped into a deserted alley and the figure lowered his hood and he was only a boy, no older than Aladdin himself, with a pale face and fair hair. His eyes seemed mischievous and serene and wise all at once, like the untamed waters of the distant sea.

"I've never seen someone dance like you," the boy said, grinning, and the next moment Aladdin was pushed against the wall and he was being kissed. And all he would remember when he woke up the next morning in the rags that were his bed was the thrum of the music and the feel of skillful hands against his chest. And a boy's face, laughing in the shadows.

He wondered if it was all only a dream.


End file.
